


Immortality

by Abraxas (Qlippoth)



Series: Thunderian Horror Anthology [1]
Category: Thundercats (1985)
Genre: Horror, Multi, Non-Consensual Body Modification
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:20:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22340203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qlippoth/pseuds/Abraxas
Summary: Panthro volunteers at a special and rare Warrior Woman festival and is granted a gift he would have rather declined.
Series: Thunderian Horror Anthology [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1608133





	Immortality

Originally Published at the _Treasures of Thundera_ Yahoo Group, March 19, 2002

* * *

It was early April and in the forested subcontinent the clime was changing from the death of winter to the life of spring. The air was warming from bitter cold to seasonable temperament. Green buds of leaves and flowers were opening and blooming on branches and vines above, while brown remnants of last year's vegetation decayed below. Snows that coated the slopes of hillsides and dusted the needles of pines thawed and melted into glimmering streams of freshwater that snaked across the countryside along channels that time and erosion had carved through the ground. Rivers flooded banks - the flush of mud and runoff weaved its way to the ocean where the incomprehensible totality of Nature replenished Third Earth with the nutrients.

Animals emerged from their dens, the birds returned to their nests. The day-to-day sounds and activities of wildlife announced the coming of the season of rebirth. It was a time of awakening and celebration that extended from the untamed void of the jungles to the tribe of Amazonians who made houses amidst the savagery.

The treetop dwellers unfurled the well-kept leftovers of their harvest and beautified their arboreal kingdom with the luscious bounty. All over, the village was set and ready for the commencement of their weeklong festival. But that year it was going to be different from all that came in years past. And it was more than just the fact that they were going to have guests - for it was the year when one generation of Warrior Maidens had to yield to another. Their mothers had taught them well to keep an eye open to the future and it was time to apply the lessons ...

* * *

Liono clasped the hand that had been offered him and brought it to his lips to kiss. "Willa," he said, lips moving over her warm skin, "a pleasure to see you again," eyes pointing up to meet hers.

The woman smiled and reverently bowed to the figure of the cheetah - the three stood in the slant of noonday sun that shone in from the chamber's open ceiling.

"We're honored to be your guests," Cheetara said.

"And the others?" she asked with a hint of betrayed impatience. "Will they be arriving later?" She folded her arms behind her, her throne empty at her side.

The lion stuttered: "I'm afraid they have to say behind. The Mutants are grouping near Dark Side and we've got to keep an eye on them."

"Oh, yes," she looked down for a moment, "always getting in the way."

Liono and Cheetara snuck a nervous glance at each other. In the awkward pause the sounds of crackling fires and chanting women filled the void.

"Will you two stay the night?"

"Yes, of course," the lion assured her, "we don't believe they'll do anything so soon."

She smiled: "Good, good."

The cheetah offered her a small, onyx box. "A present for your twenty-eighth birthday."

"Thank you," Willa said, accepting the gift with a blush - shouts from the crowds outside startled the guests.

A thin woman opened the door - faraway pits of roasting gazelles peppered the air with an alluring scent, sights of dancing Amazonians complemented the spice of stimulus but to the eyes. Willa spoke to the interloper in their flute-like, native tongue. The youthful warrior bowed to her superior, smiled at Liono and seemed to ignore Cheetara. She left without a word.

"The others are, eager," the queen seemed to apologize. She undid the top of the shiny, black box and revealed a sparkling, blue stone. "It's beautiful," she said, "but you shouldn't - I mean - it isn't just my birthday, it's all of our birthday, we are all twenty-eight this week."

Curiously: "But how can that be? Everyone's the same exact-"

Cheetara nudged Liono's arm: "There are many things about your society that we don't understand," she said, diplomatically.

"You are new-comers, do not worry, soon you will understand - let me show you," she pointed them to the door, "it is important."

She led the pair out of the throne room into the cool, breezy air. Across a swaying blank bridge and down a sturdy rope ladder, the three were once again on solid ground. Treading from place to place, around bonfires and log-stools, the various females of the tribe stopped and looked about at the guests. Some pointed at Liono and whispered to each other, some hid smiles behind hands and giggled as gossip spread around the village. The effect - though short-lived - was eerie and unsettling: Liono could feel the pressure of eyes on him and Cheetara sensed a peculiar ...

Willa showed them to a temple in the rear of the village - it was immediately odd for it was not built into the trees but rather set upon a clear and level, elevated platform. The wooden flooring was covered with shrubs and plants - three, wide urns at its corners held vats of burning oil, whose singular, orange flames whipped and flickered in the wake of slight currents. The house itself was small and square-shaped with a slanted roof of straw. The walls were of bamboo and decorated with thin, horizontal slits that served as windows. In general, it was dusty and had the air of being unkempt, unused, despite its ajar entrance and the footprints leading in and out of it.

She lit a torch with one of the urns and entered the temple - Liono and Cheetara promptly followed. Within she put the makeshift candle into a stand of stone - its warm, soft glow illuminated the small room's interior but its contents remained another matter. Heavy curtains on both sides masked the shape of objects connected to the innards of the walls. At the rear was a large, black shape the dim light had yet to fully reveal.

"You see," Willa said, "we need your help." She pointed to the statue - the two stepped closer. "This is the year when we must make ready the generation that will replace us." Slowly, by the passing of degrees, more and more details of the statue came to their eyes - they could see the exquisite and detailed features of the sculpture. It was headless and armless and by its torso it was male - a well developed male ...

Liono gulped and looked about embarrassedly. Cheetara tried hard to quell back an urge to giggle.

The figure was tremendously endowed, its member erect at an angle over the ground.

"We are all sisters for we all have the same father. Now we need a suitable man to make with us and be the father of a new generation."

"Mate with all of you? Is it possible?" Cheetara was stunned.

"With eighty-four of us the ceremony requires a week. Certainly," she eyed Liono, "only a most fit and virile warrior can do it..."

Cheetara took his hand.

"One of the Thundercats, you mean?" he asked, fearing the answer.

"We had hoped to begin tonight, as soon as a volunteer-"

The guests paused for what was an endless moment.

"It would be a great honor to be mated with such a mighty and noble warrior as you," she stared into Liono's eyes, "we mate only once."

Cheetara squeezed his hand - she could feel his pulse quicken.

"Um," - he was lost for words - "this is, something, we'll have to discuss."

"There is one more thing - an incentive, if you will," she cupped the statue's manhood - burnt wax had melted on and around it - "in your language you might say that he will be, immortalized."

"By his children, no doubt," Cheetara said - but Willa had not noticed. Liono smiled and tried to hide his blush. "It's certainly something we'll have to talk to the others about," she spoke for him.

* * *

Cloudless, clear night had fallen on the half-world by the time Liono and Cheetara returned to the Tower of Omens. The outpost's roving beacon washed the sky with a sea of radar - they found the scene in as quiet and tranquil a state as they had left it, so many hours ago. They tread down to the garage - its massive doors were slightly open, a crack of light spread across the rocky soil - and like a pair of crawling ants they entered the cavernous bay.

In the back Bengali was cleaning and polishing his tools. Toward the front Panthro was working on a set of broken pipes. His head protected by a black helmet, the mechanic welded the tubes back together; all the while sparks flew across the room from between his legs to the Thunder Tank.

"I hope we didn't miss much," Cheetara interrupted.

The cat stopped, disabled the acetylene torch and swiveled the heavy faceplate away. "Back early," he grinned, "weren't too worried about us?"

"There was a skirmish with a Balkan and Slythe," Bengali said, adding a growl, "but we handled it."

"And that was all?" Liono asked, pleased that nothing serious had developed from the Mutant's latest plans.

"Yes," Panthro answered, "but they're up to something; I just can't figure it out yet. Tygra said they were building-"

"Is he here?"

"He came back from his scouting before moonrise."

The lion nodded and fidgeted. The cluttered garage was engulfed by a sudden bought of tense and anxious silence. Panthro and Bengali could tell that something was amiss. The red-maned cat and the cheetah were a bit lost for words.

"What's wrong, Liono?" asked the black and white tiger.

"Not really wrong," he looked at Cheetara, "more like unusual."

With a rumble of laughter, the bald panther quipped: "What on Thundera happened in that party?"

"We learned a few, interesting facts about the Amazonian's society," she said.

"Hmmm," Bengali rubbed the peen end of his hammer.

The stopped one smiled and excused herself: "It's been a long hike and I need to get the dirt out," she grimaced, inspecting her fur.

Liono turned to the men: "You two and I and Tygra and maybe even Lynxo, we all need to talk. It's," he sighed, "it's important."

"OK," Panthro put his gear down, "I'll get them." He followed the woman out of the room into the main structure of the tower.

"Bengali," he approached the tiger, "if you don't mind me asking, how close are you to Pumyra?"

The cat blinked - he and the Lord of the Thundercats were not exactly on as familiar terms with each other as they were to the rest. "We are very close - is that wrong?"

"No, no," he shook his head. He was always careful with the blacksmith, always watching his words, noticing his demeanor, though they communicated in different languages without interpreters. "It just means that," he paused - he and the cat's brows were artfully knitted, "it'll be clearer when the others get here." He sat on a bench and waited.

The blue-eyed tiger chuckled, rubbing his equipment to a shine, his interest in the celebration's revelations firmly aroused.

Thankfully - or so Liono thought - Panthro had gathered Lynxo and Tygra rather quickly. The group surrounded their leader and waited for the news, the thing for which the sword-bearing youth had no regular vocabulary to describe. He cleared his throat and spoke bluntly:

"The Warrior Maidens have to mate and they need one of us - we're the only ones who qualify."

"Just one of us?" Lynxo asked.

"Just one - a warrior without commitments or children of his own."

"So that they won't, what," Panthro interjected, "have siblings outside of their society?"

Liono nodded 'yes.'

"What stops the guy from having more children in the future?" Tygra asked - but no one heard him.

"Rowl, there must be a hundred of them," Bengali added. "How can one man do..."

"Well, there aren't - I mean, there are almost a hundred of them," the lion went on, "but the mating takes place over seven days."

"Gentlemen," the lynx spoke up, "on terms of fertility alone I must be excluded, perhaps, had I been asked twenty years ago..."

"Perhaps," the red-maned cat agreed begrudgingly, "my relationship with Cheetara excuses me."

"Pumyra wouldn't like the idea," Bengali put his hammer away. "Grrr, just how was this subject brought up, anyway?"

"Willa let it all out almost as soon as we got there. She was a bit disappointed that the rest of us hadn't arrived. She wanted to get it started tonight." Thoughts, visions of that temple and its statue of timeless, virile masculinity - at once imperfect with its severed limbs and at once more complete, more complete even than he - came to his mind.

It was clear that either Tygra or Panthro would have to volunteer - if such was the word.

"Always getting in the way," the white and black tiger scowled, "right when we need everyone to guard against the Mutants."

"I'll do it," Panthro said, seeing the nervousness in the red tiger's manner.

"But if the Mutants do attack," Tygra reminded them, "you'll be away for a whole week."

"Can't they just postpone this until we're done?" Bengali continued his protest. "And why does-"

Liono stood; Lynxo laid a hand on the blacksmith's shoulder.

"Bengali," the wise feline said in a muted tone, "we need the Amazonians - and this will surely cement our alliance. Their customs are different, that's all. I would consider it an honor."

"I'm sure if the Mutants are stupid enough to attack now, you guys can handle it. I have to finish my repairs but that won't take more than a few minutes. I'll be ready, I'll do it."

Liono nodded at Panthro's assurance.

"I'll go tell the others," Tygra promptly left the garage.

* * *

The Thunder Tank stopped several yards away from the platform - the wooden bank upon which the small temple had been built. Lit urns on the corners were attended to by scantily-clad maidens - Liono and Panthro were distracted by the sweet smell of the floral sacrifices, the burnt offerings that set their minds on other matters. The doors of the house were open and though lit by torches, distance and the shadows of dancing women distorted the inner view in a formless, watery blur. Yet Cheetara noticed that the curtain had been peeled back.

The Thundercats dismounted the vehicle and waited in the clearing for their host to arrive.

A small crowd of Warrior Maidens gathered beneath a tree.

The cheetah turned to the panther and clasped him in her arms.

"What's the matter?" He held the back of her head in his massive hand.

The group of females crept closer and closer to them.

"You don't have to worry about me," he laughed - and the sound of it muffled the alarm of the twigs that snapped beneath the tree-dweller's feet.

"Hey, now!" Liono gasped - his friends turned to see what was wrong. One of the Amazonians had reached him and was giggling and tickling his exposed flesh. He was trying to grab her hands by instinct.

"Don't you like? Don't like?" she asked in the broken language.

"Argh!" Liono was gentle in his warding her off.

"What?"

Cheetara was pushed out of the way by the female troop that had their eyes on Panthro. He did not fight them, although he tried to help the cheetah up and they would not let him get near her. He lowered himself onto his knees and laughed as they fondled him.

"Save some of that for later," he said, feeling a hand on ...

The spotted cat rushed to Liono's side and flung his assaulter back. The woman hissed and bore teeth at her, eyes glazed over with wild and untamed urges. The shocking display drew the pair back, almost in terror, but with a shove and kick she got her scampering to the underbrush.

Willa emerged from the temple and clapped her hands vigorously. Yelling in the native tongue and thrashing her arms about, she directed the wayward maidens back to the jungle.

The panther got up to his feet and dusted his fur. "Friendly, weren't they?"

"They are, eager," the queen said, "the ceremony, stirs well-tempered, desires," she spoke betraying her lack of familiarity with the Thunderian tongue. "I'm sorry if it upset you."

Cheetara scowled - but she was ignored by the Amazonian, now even by their leader. She sensed that things were not at all what they appeared to be.

Liono told Willa that Panthro had volunteered. The woman looked the cat up and down, almost as if inspecting a thing to be carved. She wanted to inspect more, but disciplined restraint held her back. Later there would be better circumstances to check, of course, during the bath in the pond and at the oiling.

"Thank you, Panthro," she kissed his cheek. "You don't know what it means to us." He smiled. "You'll be, immortalized," she patted his chest lightly, enjoying the soft feel of his fur on her ravishing fingers.

"You certainly know how to treat a guest."

She took his hand and led him to a path away from the temple-hut. She stopped and turned to the remaining Thundercats. "Remember, one week from now - in seven days you will have him back. Return only then."

Panthro gave his friends a last look and waved - then he and Willa vanished into the darkness.

"Let's get out of here," the lion whispered. "I'm sure he'll have a good time."

She sighed: "That's not it. I just get the feeling - oh, Liono - the sooner things get back to normal the better." She turned to take in the scene again - around the small, bamboo house, on the dirt trail, the Amazonians huddled silently, super-silently. Though cast in the heavy cloak of night, the firelight reflected off of their wet eyes and gave away their roving, keen stare.

The shack, its curtains covered the walls once more, their secret contents safe ...

"Let's get out of here," she said.

* * *

"Willa," his voice was rushed, tensed.

"Shhh," she stopped his lips with a finger. "You must be calm. Relax." She eased him onto a rock at the edge of the lake. "Do not think such thoughts yet." She tugged his shorts - the only part of his uniform that remained - and brought it down, past his knees, to float on the water. The light of the moon over his lap, around her arms, sparkling across the quivering pond, she bit her lip as she rolled her eyes at the sight.

Panthro opened his eyes - he was submerged in the water - he reached over and kissed her cheek. She blushed, seemingly modest despite her uncovered nakedness. He smiled and pushed back her hair.

"Willa," he brought himself closer to her, "these children..."

"Do not worry; you will not be bothered by them."

"No, no, not that," he held her arm - their limbs beneath the warm waves, "I mean, can I get to know them? Will they get to know me?"

"Intimately." She giggled. "Of course, they'll visit you all of the time."

"What if some are boys..."

"There will be none," she interrupted. "We do not give birth to males; we do not have that ability."

He blinked. "Why not?" he asked with a smile.

"Long ago, we could," she paused to translate the old, ancient myth. "Giant mushrooms that covered the earth, devoured many of our kind - both males and females - and produced horrors, creatures that emerged from the fires and wastelands. We, too, were changed and, our elders said, that once Third Earth had settled, we could no longer mate on our own for we could not produce men. That's why we have to do it this way. Over time, we refined the ceremony. Oh, but you probably don't understand."

"I think I get it," the panther wrapped her in a gentle embrace, "that's alright."

The pair was caught in the sway of a gliding, streaming current.

"You remember your father?" he asked.

"Yes, I talk to him every day."

His eyes widened. "What do you mean?"

"I visit him everyday - I'll show him to you, when we're finished." She held him tightly beneath the cover of the darkened, ethereal waters. "You will be immortal."

* * *

The fort, that the Mutants had tried to build, was destroyed while still in its nescient stages by the Thundercats three days into the week. The Plunderians offered limited resistance and by the end of the daylong battle, they had retreated to the eastern, desert country. It appeared that victory was at hand, it never occurred to the Thunderians that things were not what they seemed.

And then Tygra and Cheetara followed the gang of genetic misfits from the smoldering pile of rotted wood in the forest, to the arid, dusty site of a secondary lair that they had nearly finished, that they had been constructing at the same time. It was shaped like a reptile - rather, the horrid, perverted rendition of a reptile, set to the red-orange sands of the environs. Little shrubs of green in the loose dirt dotted the flat land around the main entrance. Around the body of the castle, the ground had been dug out to form a makeshift trench. With a little more effort, it would make a decent moat.

On the fifth day, they bided their time with the cleaning up of the mess of the demolished fort and planting surveillance equipment near the Mutant's new abode. They busied themselves with minor chores and springtime cleaning, stocking up on supplies, food and making minor repairs here and there. But it was in vain - nothing they did, no matter how involved or important it was, could keep their minds from thinking about Panthro. From wondering about what was happening to him. Worrying about his safety. Awaiting his return.

At last, the day came and it was now time to get the panther back.

Liono and Cheetara drove the Thunder Tank to the spot near the temple. It was early evening and the dying, red light of the sun cast long shadows across the clearing. Trees ruffled in the wake of the breeze overhead and sent a sound echoing through the jungle as though alarming its inhabitants to their arrival. A seasonably cool air whipped their hair and chilled their skin.

They emerged from the vehicle and explored the scene around the small, vine-covered hut. The temple was eternal in the sense that it was the only fixture in the area that did not change. Little details altered and amended, others things grew, blossomed and died, animals and birds, generations upon generations of Warrior Maidens came and went and yet it was always there, always constant.

Its urns brimmed with hot, brittle ash - some of which was still shaped like tree branches and flower petals, the fuels that had fed the fires from before - and scents of fragrant oils that lingered as if the very stones themselves were endowed with aromatic substance. Near the entrance - the shut doors of the house - were scuffmarks stabbed freshly into the ground. Flies buzzed about the rectangular slits that served as the temple's windows and suddenly a smell familiar to carnivorous predators captured the attention of the two Thundercats.

"If anything happened to him, I'm sure the sword would have alerted me," Liono reassured her. "I'm sure they wouldn't have done anything to him, they don't seem to be..."

"We were certain the Mutants were dumb, too," she interjected, "why couldn't you have just sent Tygra instead? When we need Panthro more-" she stopped. She caught sight of a figure moving through the bushes. No - figures, there were two of them. One tall, one short. "By Jagga!" She darted back in shock, almost falling into the lion's arms.

"See, what did I say, he's alright," the red-maned cat helped her up.

"No!"

Panthro and Willa emerged from the cover of large, green leaves. The bald panther's eyes were wide and did not blink - his dry, red orbs were pointed directly at the pair. His lips were moving, but if they made a sound, any sound at all, it was too low for them to hear. Behind him was the queen of the Amazonians. She looked ambivalent - pleased and yet surprised. Confident and yet nervous. She neither hurried to the other cats nor lagged but remained behind the mechanic.

"Why is walking like that? Why?" Cheetara and Liono rushed to their friend's side.

The mechanic lumbered along in a limp gait. He did not bend his knees and his every step came with labored breaths and teeth-crunched exertion. His expression was that of pain incarnate - and from that Thundercat ...

Liono had seen Panthro that way only once before and he had hoped never to live long enough to see it again.

"Get to the Thunder Tank," he said, barely over his breath. "Hurry," he told the lion without looking at him directly. "Hurry, we have to get out of here."

Cheetara shrieked and ran toward the temple. Despite Willa's screaming out broken orders to stop and not go in, she kicked down the door. She entered, assaulted by the din that rang through the forest, Willa's call to arms, as it were. She eyed about the innards of the small room, her heart beating in her throat.

"Get out of there, Cheetara," Liono shouted. "We have to get out of here fast!" He was panicked - _what did he see_ , she asked herself, what did Panthro tell him?

The statue - with its fresh stains of wax. The floorboards - with pressed flowers and leaves. The drapes - the drapes! She reached out, feeling the heat of the heavy fabric, a fly buzzing around her face. She could see the faint forms of objects beneath the folds of the cloth, obscured by the very substance of the curtains.

"No, Cheetara, don't!"

With one, single, frantic move she grabbed the cloak - the sounds of footsteps running up to the temple reaching her ears - and tore away the material, shredding the threads in her sharp grip. Looking at what she had uncovered, she screamed and staggered back. On the walls, arranged on hooks and chains, dangled mummified genitals, preserved from the elements with a concoction of yellow resin. Caressed and well-cared-for, tattooed markings adorned the severed members, sorting out, as it were, the different, immortalized fathers from one another.

She gasped, panted, out of breath and fallen to the ground, unable to get up and out of there; she looked on, helpless, at the latest entry into that macabre collection, which stood out on its own with its matted, blue fur and moist, supple flesh.


End file.
